Bicurious
by emebalia
Summary: Two men in a bar, having a good time. The suggestion to move on to the motel. And Dean is curious. Dean/OMC, nothing more explicit than kissing


**Bicurious**

Dean sat at the bar and nursed a beer. Very few patrons – the two female ones clearly more interested in the men next to them than in him – nobody at the pool tables and a bartender with too many years and pounds on her side than he'd find attractive.

_One beer,_ Dean promised himself, _one beer and then I'll go back to the motel._ An empty motel room with only the TV for company was better than everything this bar and this godforsaken town had to offer.

He had swung by at Sammy's place in Palo Alto while he'd been in California – not that the kid ever noticed his or their dad's visits – and was now on his way to meet John for their next gig. He still had blisters from the grave digging and that had been the most exiting part of that hunt. Dusty archives and a desiccated graveyard in the summer heat of California, Dean groaned at that memory. Hopefully the hunt his dad wanted him to join involved a cool breeze and something to actually kill.

Dean finished his beer and was ready to leave when the door opened and a young man entered the bar. Maybe a few years older than Dean but not by much, ruffled hair from sweat and the air con, his suit with the loosen tie was in a similar state, tell tales from a day spent in a car. Dean knew the signs.

After a quick glance around the man headed to the bar and took a stool to Dean's right leaving an empty one between them. He acknowledged Dean's presence with a nod and then ordered a beer. With a sigh he took the first sip.

"Long day?" Dean asked and ordered a second beer. A little small talk with a stranger was better than the empty motel room waiting for him.

The man smiled an exhausted smile.

"Try to stay in a car all day in that heat." He said and shrugged off his jacket. Why he was wearing it in the first place was beyond Dean. Maybe his job required it. People had to do stupid things for work.

Dean smiled and nodded knowingly. They sat in silence for a few minutes.

"I'm Alan, by the way."

"Dean." Dean replied and Alan bought them shots and started to talk.

"So your company sends you around the states to visit every plant personally for something you could do via internet?" Dean wasn't sure he got the job description right. "That sucks, man."

"Yep. Haven't been home for three weeks. Can you imagine that?" Alan studied his beer bottle before he took another sip. "And you? Just passing through, too?"

"Hmm. Meet up with my dad in a few days." Dean answered. "We restore and sell classic cars." It sounded way better than a simple mechanic and it explained why he had to travel a lot.

"Sounds way more interesting than my job." Alan sighed then his face lit up. "Saw this sweet Impala at the motel. Yours?"

"That would be mine." Dean beamed at the admiration of his car. "She's not for sale." He added quickly.

Alan held his hands up in surrender. "I'd never want to get between a man and his car. She's in a really good condition I might say."

"You know your way around cars?" Dean asked. This evening promised to turn out to be more entertaining than he had hoped.

"My dad taught me a thing or two. He has this '66 Mustang, he loves her more than my mom."

Dean chuckled. "I bet he does, less talking back."

And easy as that they chatted like old friends. They started at cars and then Dean gave him tips to shorten his next trip and where he just had to try the cheeseburger.

"Dude, I promise you you'll never eat a better burger in your life."

"Is there any place in the US you haven't been to?" Alan asked and ordered more shots.

"Hawaii and Alaska." Dean answered. "Helped my dad since I was little. We never stayed long in one place, had to go where the work was." Maybe he should stop with the hard liquor, he got into his talkative mode which was fine with his dad or Sammy around – and no he didn't want to think about Sammy right now – but with an almost stranger? No, not good.

As if Alan knew his thoughts he stayed with beer, too, and they hold on to one bottle for over an hour. At some point Alan had moved over to the stool next to Dean and they had their heads stuck together like little kids plotting a prank. They laughed and Dean couldn't remember when he'd laughed that carefree. Not since Sam had left. But it felt good.

Being well aware of the fact that he was a very handsome piece of mankind and in touch with his sexuality – on a regular basis quite literally – Dean knew that people were attracted by him. And not only women. So when Alan's hand brushed against his too often to be accidental and when he leaned into Dean's personal space and looked up to him from behind hooded eyes, yeah, Dean knew exactly what he was doing. It had happened before and his plan of action had always been to set things straight with a polite smile and to move on. Preferably into some woman's arms. He felt flattered most of the time, because hey, he was that awesome and just everybody wanted a piece of his ass but he just didn't swing that way.

To say that he'd never thought about it would be a lie but that was a lie he'd still tell on his deathbed. And being just a little bit curious didn't make him gay, right? Not that he ever did something with another guy. And pretty sure he wouldn't start with Alan. He was a nice guy but he was a guy.

But how was he supposed to turn the guy down during an earnest discussion about which was the best Metallica album ever? Talking couldn't hurt, right? Dean only had to watch out what kind of signals he sent. He could set things straight after he had proven his point about the album.

After they had settled that argument – which Dean totally won – the conversation turned into a silly contest of who had done the dumbest thing in his life. For obvious reasons Dean couldn't tell the story of the poltergeist and the frying pan so he went for "The one time when Sammy convinced me to jump from the roof with an umbrella and I broke my leg" and lost against "When I burned the hair of my sister's Barbie and then the carpet caught fire and I flowed the entire first floor with the garden hose".

"That's a good one." Dean had to admit and gave him a salute with his beer.

"My parents thought otherwise." Alan grinned at him, then froze for a second and then looked away.

"What?" Dean asked still licking the last drop of beer from his lips.

Alan squirmed a little and did he actually blush? He tried to hide it behind his beer bottle and it was kind cute.

"Your lips." Alan said finally without looking him into the eye.

"What's with my lips?" Dean asked and his voice sounded husky even in his own ears. He knew where this road went. Time to set things straight.

"I want to kiss them."

Dean opened his mouth but closed it the next second without saying a word. He liked Alan, over the last two hours he got to know him quite a bit and he really liked him. He was a nice guy, funny, with a good taste in music and cars. And not bad looking either. For a guy.

Dean licked his lips again, thinking. Nobody around here knew him, he was on his way through just like Alan. They didn't even know their last names and in the morning they would go their separate ways and nobody would ever know.

And he was curious. His pants suddenly felt a little bit too tight to deny that fact.

"Sorry, man." Alan filled the awkward silence. "I didn't mean to jump you. I should go now." He grabbed his jacket and turned to leave. Dean hold him back.

"Why don't you?" Dean's mouth said before his brain could catch up on what to say.

"What?"

"Kiss me." Dean clarified. "Why don't you kiss me?" He licked his lips again but this time because he was nervous. A part of him just hoped that Alan would turn the offer down. Instead Alan studied his face for a second before he leaned in and their lips met.

The first second Dean was stunned. He felt the soft skin of Alan's lips against his and a hint of stubble – that sensation was new during a kiss – but it didn't feel bad or gross. It felt kinda good. And then – because he was Dean Winchester and one of the best kissers under the sun – Dean parted his lips and tilted the head a little bit and just rolled with it. They parted after a few short seconds and just looked at each other.

"We could go back to the motel." Alan suggested.

"Yeah." Dean answered still not sure how far he wanted to go with this. But then he finished his beer and set his mind. "Let's go."

Outside a cool breeze greeted them. Dean wasn't drunk and the fresh air sobered him. Whatever would happen tonight he couldn't blame it on the alcohol. Shoulder to shoulder they walked the short distance to the motel. In this town everything was in short walking distance. They didn't really talk for which Dean was kinda thankful, he wasn't sure if he could bring out a coherent sentence.

Maybe he should run away. Maybe he should just do it, the whole nine yards. Which led to the question of position. With a girl it was clear what went in where – with some variations, he had done and enjoyed some kinky stuff, thank you very much – but with a man …

Dean glanced at Alan and swallowed thickly. As if Alan sensed his insecurity he bumped his shoulder into Dean's and placed another kiss on Dean's cheek. For the moment Dean stopped thinking.

They took Alan's room – it was closer – and as soon as the door closed behind them Alan kissed him again. One hand in his hair and the other one on his back Alan kissed him. Dean mirrored his position and they kissed with open mouths and tongue brushing against tongue. The taste of beer still present it didn't feel that different form kissing a girl. Except this was a dude.

"I …" Dean started when Alan's mouth began to wander down his neck. "I never …"

Alan stopped and looked him in the eye. "Never with a man or never at all?"

"Dude." Dean snorted. "I can't even remember all the girls." He felt the heat in his cheeks and it wasn't arousal. "With a man? No, not so much."

Dean Winchester, the blushing virgin. That was either epic or pathetic, he wasn't sure what. His dick on the other hand seemed quite interested.

"You sure?" Alan asked giving him a way out if he wanted to.

"'M sure." The words were muffled by another kiss.

"We'll go slow. It'll be good." Alan promised and he kept his word.

The morning after wasn't as awkward as some mornings after one-night-stands with some girls. They didn't exchange their numbers but they could look each other in the eye and had stupid smiles on their faces. Dean wished Alan a safe journey and then he was on the road again.

Windows down, Led Zeppelin loud and his fingers drumming on the steering wheel Dean thought about the last night. He still would chose a girl over a guy at any time, however, it was an experience to repeat. On occasion. When nobody he knew was looking.


End file.
